


It Only Takes a Taste

by multifandomcircusfreak



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-03
Updated: 2016-07-03
Packaged: 2018-07-19 18:22:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7372591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/multifandomcircusfreak/pseuds/multifandomcircusfreak
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It wasn't Jack's fault that he consumed far more sugar than his nutritionist allowed. It was just that there was a bakery right between his home stadium and his apartment that happened to sell obscenely good pies.</p><p>(Waitress au based on the song "It Only Takes a Taste")</p>
            </blockquote>





	It Only Takes a Taste

Jack had always been known for his habits. Parson used to mock him for the way he spent five minutes searching for his usual brand of toothpaste when they went on the road. His dad laughed when they wore their matching “lucky socks” before every game. His mom made sure to have a protein filled breakfast waiting for him when he woke up at 5:00 am on practice days. He didn’t think it was another thing to add to his wonderful list of mental illnesses; it was just that when Jack had a schedule or a habit, it was something to fall back on, it was something that made him feel secure.

One of his habits was his diet. Ever since he joined the Falconers, he once again had a nutritionist on his back 24/7, chirping him about the ratios of the nutrients and food groups in his meals. What Dr. Mason just didn’t understand, though, was that Jack was human. Despite his personal chirping about the importance of protein, he had to let himself have _some_ kind of sugar now and then. Unfortunately, _now and then_ meant every other day. But that wasn’t really Jack’s fault. It was just that there was a bakery right between his home stadium and his apartment that happened to sell obscenely good pies.

And so “Bitty’s Bakery” had become one of Jack’s many habits.

It still shocked him, however, to realize that his unofficial schedule had an impact on other people’s lives. The man at the bakery counter didn’t even have to say hello to him before pulling out a maple crusted apple pie every Thursday, and “Eric” bid him goodbye with a “See ya later!” without hesitation, trusting Jack to return. Over the months he had been going there, Jack had begun sitting closer and closer to the counter, fascinated by the wonderful smell coming from the kitchen and the occasional sight of Eric dancing around to a familiar song and carrying ingredients with him. Sometimes, when Eric returned out front, he began chatting away about whatever was semi relevant to the area, either unaware or simply undisturbed by Jack’s rare contributions to the conversation. That system was another thing Jack had grown comfortable with.

It was nice in Bitty’s Bakery. Somehow, while being so physically close to his stadium, the bakery seemed so far away from the stressors of Jack’s life - a completely different universe. There were no reporters spreading rumors, just an employee babbling on about the cat that didn’t have a collar but was too clean to be a stray. There were no demanding coaches, just comfortable chairs and walls that somehow managed to be yellow without looking tacky. There were no loud teammates and louder fans, there was just that song playing in the background that Jack knew from somewhere but could never name.

In fact, the bakery was so calm and peaceful that it brought back the hazy, pre-anxiety memories of Jack’s childhood, when he used to run errands with his mother. They would go to another bakery back then, one in Montreal. He remembered the lady that worked there, though he couldn’t remember her name; she had large, curly brown hair, and perfectly white teeth. Jack remembered her hands, soft and covered with flour, sneaking him cookies underneath the counter while his mother flipped through a magazine. She reminded him of Eric, actually.

One day, he mentioned that.

“You know, you remind of this girl I knew back home,” he said aloud. Eric looked shocked that he was speaking first, or at all. “Well, she’s not a girl anymore. She’s got to be middle aged by now. Forty one… Forty two…”

Eric’s brow furrowed. “Um, thank you?”

Jack suddenly realized the way his words could come across and felt his face heat up. “Oh my god,” he blurted out. “No, no, no, no!” He ran his hand through his hair as Eric’s expression grew increasingly more weirded-out. “I mean you’re sweet! A-and you have very small hands and your teeth-” He cut himself off as Eric’s face - thankfully - gained a smile, even if it was a bit taken aback.

Eric laughed. “No one really notices me that way.”

“Well, obviously someone did.”

“What?”

Jack pointed to the photo behind him, a large, framed picture of Eric surrounded by a group of men. The men held a sign that displayed the words “Bitty and Betsy 4ever” in bold letters. “Because you… and Betsy…” He cut himself off again when he saw Eric’s expression. “Hey,” he hurried on awkwardly. “Are you Bitty?”

“Oh.” Eric looked back at the picture. “Yeah, Bittle’s my last name. The guys in that picture are my friends from college. Betsy’s my oven.”

“Betsy’s not your girlfriend?” Jack found himself asking, for some reason ignoring the more obvious question of ‘You own this place?’.

Bitty smiled blushingly. “Oh, lord no. To tell you the truth, I… lean more towards men.”

Jack raised his eyebrows. “Oh?”

Bitty nodded. “Yeah. Don’t mention it, though, if you don’t mind. You hear of all these places that lose half their clientele when they find out the owner’s gay. I’d almost forgotten about that kind of behaviour in college, but the second I left it was everywhere I turned.”

Jack understood that. One of the press’s favourite subjects to gossip about was every player’s sexuality. On every online forum there was at least one debate about whether Jack Zimmermann was gay or straight or if there had been “something extra” between him and Parse all those years ago. No one ever got it right, considering that Jack was _bisexual_ \- a fact that was entirely overlooked - but it was enough to make him wonder how many of his fans would desert him if they found out.

“I don’t know how anyone could make themselves leave this place,” he admitted. “The pies are so good, it’s hard for me to even walk out the door. They’re like the lady in Montreal’s, but better.”

Bitty laughed. “This flattery isn’t going to get you a discount, mister.”

“I’m not expecting one. Honestly, it’s all I can do to not buy the whole pie.” He gestured to the rest of the maple crusted apple pie that was hidden behind the glass counter. “One taste and I want the whole thing.”

Bitty leaned up against the counter, supporting himself on his elbows. “That reminds me of something my momma would say when we baked. She’d say ‘Dicky,” he began in a higher pitched version of his southern tone, “you can tell a whole story with just a taste.’”

“Yeah, that’s exactly what I mean!” Jack agreed. “But I guess that kind of philosophy doesn’t always apply to pies.” His lips debated whether or not to talk about his team and life in general when his phone beeped. It was Snowy, telling him to get his ass over to a local pub, where they would be drinking to the upcoming season. He groaned. “I have to go,” he told Bitty, pulling out his wallet and placing money for the dish and a tip on the counter.

“Wait,” Bitty told him as he got up. The baker opened the glass display case and pulled out a large fudge brownie, and put it on a napkin. He pushed the treat into Jack’s hands. “On the house,” he told him.

“Really?” Jack wondered. “What happened to no flattery?”

Bitty shrugged. “It’s my aunt’s recipe. I can hardly go around selling it at full price without knowing if it’s any good, now can I? You’ll just have to come back next week and tell me how it is.”

Jack grinned. “I guess I will. See you later, then.”

Bitty smiled back at him. “See ya.”

As Jack left the bakery to walk to the pub, he found himself less annoyed at the prospect of his teammates trying to bring him to bars and more peeved at the fact that they were pulling him away from Bitty’s Bakery. Still, with a warm brownie in his hand, Jack found himself smiling the whole walk there. And when he looked down to see that there was a note on the napkin that read “One bite is more than enough to know you want more of what you just got a taste of. :)” with a phone number printed below, his smile grew even bigger, and stayed that way for the rest of the day.

**Author's Note:**

> Have you fallen into fictional hockey hell? Come chat with me about these dweebs on tumblr! I'm @thelynchbros over there!


End file.
